


i keep the ends out (for the tie that binds)

by LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angelic Grace, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Dean/Cas Tropefest 5k Mid-Winter Challenge, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Dom/sub, First Time, Idiots in Love, M/M, POV Castiel, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Spanking, Sub Dean, Team Dean's Red Ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 15:04:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14167500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch/pseuds/LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch
Summary: Dean had not "cleared his browser history”.It’s a misstep Sam chastised his brother for so often Cas can hear Sam’s voice in his head.Dean, how many times do I have to tell you…Cas always wondered why Sam considered Dean’s carelessness such an affront.Now he knows.In which Cas learns about Dean's secret desires, offers to be of service and fails miserably at the attempt to keep things casual.





	i keep the ends out (for the tie that binds)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justkeeponwriting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justkeeponwriting/gifts).



> Written for the Dean/Cas Tropefest mid-winter 5k 2018.
> 
> For [Amy ](http://www.helakkas.tumblr.com)who prompted this. I hope you like it!
> 
> My biggest thanks to [Marie](http://www.dixseptdixhuit.tumblr.com) for looking this over and to the mods for this amazing challenge!

Cas just wanted to do some quick research.

That had been two hours ago. Now his back aches and his eyes are sandpaper-dry, but he can’t tear his eyes away for the life of him.

It’s the fourth time he uses his grace to take away the uncomfortable twitch between his shoulder blades from being hunched over for so long. To moisten his eyes. To deflate his growing erection.

With a sigh, he relishes the lessening of the tension and clicks on the next video. A muscled man is strapped to a chair, naked, face hidden behind a mask. His body strains against black ropes as the hand of a figure outside the shot closes around his impressive erection. Cas turns the volume as low as possible, but his hearing is still way better than that of a human, so he can make out the high pitched, desperate, mewling sounds the action of the unseen figure draws from the suspended man.

Clear liquid oozes from the man’s thick length. A second hand slips between willing, open thighs. Thick muscles work under tanned skin, and it’s unclear for a moment if the man wants to get closer or draw back from the intensity of his pleasure. Cas readjusts his pants. His breathing stutters when his palm presses against his groin.

Dean “had not cleared his browser history”.

It’s a misstep Sam chastised his brother for so often Cas can hear Sam’s voice in his head. _Dean, how many times do I have to tell you_ … Cas always wondered why Sam considered Dean’s carelessness such an affront.

Now he knows.

For the last two hours, he followed the links through Dean’s most hidden desires and sexual fantasies. Men, bound in ropes. Gagged. Blindfolded. Whipped and spanked. Penetrated with dildos, vibrators, fingers, tongues and cocks, one or even two at the same time.

Cas knows what he does is wrong. He had been wrong to peek into Dean’s mind when he still had his full grace. This was the same thing, in a way. He’s seeing something Dean clearly doesn’t want him to see. But he can’t stop. Every new picture and video shows him a precious secret, a way Dean might take pleasure from someone else – _from me_ , a tiny voice whispers in his mind – and he’s unable to look away.

His imagination isn’t helping as it supplies new versions for every scene he’s watching. Cas can see it all too clearly: Dean, bound and writhing in pleasure, begging for release. The power imbalance speaks to something deep inside Cas, he’s a little ashamed to admit, a hunger for control maybe, for the heady feeling of others bowing to his will. Even stronger than that: the need to take care of Dean in any way he lets him.

The man in the video ejaculates for the second time in so many minutes. Cas fantasized about being with Dean in such a carnal way, often, but in his mind it had always been a blurry image of naked skin and kisses and exploring hands. Closeness, undefined.

Now he’s sure he will dream in much more detail. He starts the video again, fascinated by the setting and the undeniable pleasure he‘s witnessing. As he concentrates on the sounds of the man on his screen, he doesn’t hear the footsteps approaching behind him.

“What’re you resea–… Cas!”

Dean’s hand shoots into the line of his vision and closes the laptop with a snap. The sound echoes through the following silence.

Cas sits perfectly still. “You didn’t clear your browser history,” Cas murmurs and looks up at Dean, in time to see the most alluring flush reddening Dean’s cheeks.

“No shit,” Dean grumbles. “That doesn’t give you the right to snoop through my stuff.”

“I apologize, but I found myself intrigued by what I saw.” Dean’s eyes widen at that, and Cas smiles a little to show Dean that he won’t hold his desires against him. His lips tingle from the stretch, the smile must look feeble at best.

When Dean says nothing, Cas carries on: the want that still roars in his body makes him reckless. “I was curious and read a lot about BDSM practices. I gather it is possible to share these with people outside of romantic relationships?”

Dean goes very, very quiet at that, and his eyes narrow at Cas in question. Cas is slow at times when it comes to human interactions and often he takes things too literally, so it’s possible Dean thinks he is simply stating facts here.

Cas is not.

“From what I can discern, you seem to be interested in taking on a submissive role. I am sure it won’t be easy to find an amiable partner for this kind of endeavor, given the work you do.”

He keeps his voice steady with sheer force of will. One wrong word, and Dean will bolt, of that Cas is certain. He would never agree to what Cas has to offer if he thought it would be anything more than a convenient arrangement between them, a practical measure to fulfill needs otherwise neglected. Cas knows Dean isn’t interested in a romantic relationship, least of all with him, and he made peace with it a long time ago. This, though, this might be something Dean would be willing to share.

“You got that right, Cas. And there’s a reason people keep these kinds of things private. So are we done discussing my porn collection?”

Dean turns and takes a step toward the kitchen, clearly done with the conversation and eager to leave.

“I could do it,” Cas says, low, almost a whisper. Dean’s head snaps around. He glares at Cas like he’s been struck.

“What?”

“I could dominate you.” Cas holds Dean’s gaze. His heart is beating furiously, and his mind stumbles through all the ways this might end badly, all the ways it could end in pure bliss.

Dean breaks eye contact to look at the floor. Cas can see the same fight that’s wrecking his own mind taking place inside of Dean. Cas knows Dean wants to say yes, maybe not to Cas in particular, but he wants the things Cas saw on his laptop and Cas might be the only person that can give them to Dean. Cas’ blood surges with a possessiveness so fierce he’s shaken by it.

He can pinpoint the exact moment Dean’s need wins over his doubts.

“How?”

Dean’s not asking for specific acts, rather for the terms of their arrangement.

“We would have to set boundaries. What we both would be willing to do, and what we won’t do. We have to arrange a time and place, presumably when Sam is not around.”

“What would you get out of it?” Dean asks.

Cas turns his chair. Dean looks up at the sound. In the usual black slacks Cas is wearing, shirt tucked in and jacket open, there’s no hiding the impact the conversation has on him. Dean’s gaze wanders and settles on Cas’ groin where the thin fabric is stretched obscenely over his erection. Dean’s eyes darken and he licks his lips in a nervous ( _aroused?_ Cas doesn’t know) gesture.

“Don’t worry about me,” Cas says, although he _is_ worried. This development in their relationship could very well destroy whatever bond they had. Is it worth the risk? The strategist in Cas knows that sometimes the only way to win a war is to surprise the enemy with a bold move, to put everything on the line.

Dean’s gaze feels like a touch as it travels up from Cas’ open thighs over his torso to his mouth to meet his eyes. Cas finds fear in the green depths, curiosity, and a hunger that rivals his own.

“Okay.” Dean’s voice is hoarse and he licks his lips again. This time it looks deliberate. Heat settles low in Cas’ gut.

“Okay.”

 

###

 

A week later, Sam is on a hunt with Jody. He will be on the road for at least two days. After their conversation, Cas chose one of the rooms in the bunker at the end of a seldom used hallway and prepared it at night while the brothers slept.

He bought supplies and put them away while Dean and Sam were out to do their own shopping. Cas changed the lock and kept the only key to himself.

The whole week, Dean seemed on edge, his gaze travelling over to Cas whenever he was in the same room. Cas held it steadily, but his skin itched with the need to find out what it would feel like to have Dean at his mercy. The thought of this stubborn, self-reliant, strong man giving himself over made Cas dizzy.

When Sam says his goodbyes and the heavy metal door to the bunker falls shut, silence settles around Dean and Cas like a cloak. Dean clears his throat.

”So, when do we start?”

Cas sent him a list on his phone for Dean to mark the things he’d like to try. Cas was stunned by how many of the squares had been filled with x’s in the “yes”-row. Aside from a few more exotic or permanent treatments, Dean marked a vast number of items. He texted the list back to Cas and asked what his boundaries were.

Cas thought long and hard about it. He didn’t object to anything on the list as long as it gave Dean what he needed. He only had to make sure to uphold his emotional distance to what happened. Dean told him more than once he enjoyed casual sex, but Cas was sure he wouldn’t be able to separate it from his own tumultuous feelings for Dean.

He wrote back while they were all sitting in the war room.

_You are not allowed to touch me._

Dean’s eyes flicked over to him, and Cas might have imagined it, but he thought he saw hurt and disappointment in Dean’s gaze. As if Dean hoped their arrangement would mean _more_. But that couldn’t be true. Dean never once indicated he would be interested in Cas as a romantic partner, reiterated time and time again he saw them as friends, extended family, convenient allies.

Now Dean is watching him carefully and a glint of anticipation is lighting up his eyes. Cas walks down the hallway, indicating Dean with a flick of his wrist to follow him. They walk in silence until they reach the room and Cas fumbles with the key.

“Red room of pain, huh?” Dean asks, a slight tremor in his voice.

“It’s not red.” Cas opens the door and swings it wide so Dean can step inside. At first glance, there’s nothing out of the ordinary. A wide bed, a chest of drawers, a chair. At second glance … Dean goes over to the wall and touches the metal hooks with his fingertips. His gaze wanders to the solid headboard. His shoulders are tense. The door falls shut with a soft noise that echoes off the walls.

“I bought some supplies to arrange for the practices you showed interest in,” Cas says. Dean opens the top drawer. He’ll find a variety of plugs, dildos and vibrators in it. Dean stays unmoving and silent while he takes in the display. He closes the drawer and opens the next one. Ropes, gags, cuffs, blindfolds. Cas can hear Dean breathing. The last drawer holds paddles, whips, nipple clamps. When Dean is finished inspecting it all, he leans on the chest.

“You did of all of this, in a week?” He shakes his head, doesn’t meet Cas’ eyes. “For me?”

Cas nods. On one hand, it feels wrong to say he did it all for Dean. On the other hand, Cas wouldn’t be interested in these things if it weren’t for Dean. He wants to be with him, and if this is the way Dean prefers, Cas will provide. He can’t say that, though.

“This room is for you, for your pleasure, Dean. That doesn’t mean I won’t enjoy what transpires here.”

Dean meets his eyes. His neck is tinged red and his hands are curled into fists at his sides, but he straightens his shoulders. As if he’s headed into a fight. Cas wants him to understand that he doesn’t have to fight here, that he can leave hunting, demons, God behind, forget it, if only for a while, in this room.

“Do you have a safeword?” Cas asks.

“Poughkeepsie,” Dean answers after a second of consideration. It’s fast enough that Cas is sure he thought about it before. Cas reaches back and turns the key.

“You can put a stop to all of this by using that word, do you understand?” He watches as Dean nods, then waits. Dean squirms under his gaze.

“I need you to use words, Dean.”

Dean gulps visibly and licks his lips before he says, “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” Cas keeps his gaze level, but his blood is boiling from the tension that’s building between them. If Cas still had his wings, they would be stretched high and proud above his shoulders, demanding attention. They would be twitching in anticipation.

“Yes,… sir?” Dean asks as the blush deepens to a darker red, almost purple. Cas’ stomach tightens at the defiant tone.

“I wanted to hear that you understand the use of your safeword. But this…” He takes a deep breath and feels it hitching in his throat. “…is fine, too.” He smiles, and Dean smiles back tentatively.

“We’ll work on that together,” he tells Dean, and then lets the smile fall from his lips. “I want you to undress and kneel beside the bed, eyes to me.”

Dean shivers, and his fists are tightening again, before they uncurl. He reaches up to unbutton his shirt. Cas watches mesmerized as Dean slips out of the flannel and tugs his undershirt over his head, slips out of his boots and socks. He doesn’t seem to make a conscious effort to put on a show, but Cas follows every movement helplessly as if he would.

When Dean straightens again, his face is contorted into a question. Cas lets his eyes drift down to Dean’s crotch, a silent order. His throat is tight, he doesn’t trust his voice. The jeans Dean’s wearing are already bulging. Dean’s hands tremble as he reaches for the top button and pops it, then lowers the zipper. Inch by inch, the metallic teeth unveil Dean’s underwear, and with it the thickness of his erection.

If Cas had any doubt left that he could go through with this unaffected, it dissolves when Dean opens his jeans, hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his underwear and pushes both down his bowed legs. Dean steps out of the fabric and toward the bed, lowers himself on his knees. His chest is heaving and sweat shines on his skin despite the fact that the room is comfortably warm but not overly so. Cas’ own clothes are stifling and too tight. Dean clasps his hands in front of his crotch, decides against it with a quick look at Cas, and lets them fall loosely at his sides.

Cas nods. “Well done. You look beautiful like this.”

Dean huffs a laugh, and Cas closes the distance with three strides, tangles his fingers in Dean’s hair and tugs sharply until Dean looks up a him with wide eyes and parted lips.

“Is there something funny?”

Dean licks his lips and stares back at him. “Look, Cas, I get the ordering around and I’m into it, I really am, but you can cut it with the compliments, okay?”

Cas keeps his hand in Dean’s hair, fist tight enough to sting, and ponders his answer. Dean’s head is bent back at an uncomfortable angle, but Cas doesn’t change it. A quick look down verifies that Dean is still “into it”, if the beading drop of precome adorning the head of his erection is any indication.

Cas lowers his voice. “We agreed on this, Dean. You wanted to submit, so submitting you will be. And when I tell you how beautiful you are, how good or perfect or breathtaking, you will listen and nod. You may thank me, but you don’t get to contradict me, is that understood?”

Dean shivers under his hands the whole time Cas speaks. A spark in his eyes says that he wants to argue and Cas fears that this will be over before it really started, that Cas has already gone too far. After a long moment, Dean nods.

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good,” Cas loosens his fingers from Dean’s hair to comb through the strands more gently. Dean closes his eyes and pushes into the touch with a sigh, so Cas keeps petting him, runs his fingers over Dean’s scalp and massages lightly until he can see the tension flow from Dean’s shoulders. Dean’s hand rises up to touch Cas’ leg, and Cas takes his hand away and steps back.

“No touching”, he says, and the clarification breaks the moment. Cas almost takes his rule back, because he wants Dean to touch him, fiercely, but it’s safer this way.

Cas turns to avoid Dean’s eyes while he gets his features under control. He opens the top drawer and takes out a length of rope. The material is rough under his fingertips.

“Turn to the bed and bend over.”

He can hear Dean scrambling and the bedsheet rustling as he lies his upper body down. Steeling himself, he turns and starts binding Dean’s forearms together with intricate knots. “Tell me if it’s too tight.”

Dean shakes his head, then remembers. “No, it’s fine.”

“You tried to touch me, so I’ll have to punish you,” Cas says, his voice strained even to his own ears. He didn’t have a clear plan going into this, but he makes up his mind quick. “I will slap you with my open palm ten times.”

“Yes,” Dean breathes.

“Open your legs a bit wider.”

Dean obeys, and Cas can see that Dean’s cock isn’t lying flat under him but is pressed against the side of the bed. Dean’s back muscle tense in waves, and between his spread cheeks, his hole is clenching with each ripple that moves down the arc of his body. Cas reaches down to palm his own erection through the fabric of his pants, and a small moan slips free at the contact. Dean gasps but doesn’t comment on it. He lays still, bound and naked, waiting for Cas to take the next step, tantalizing in this chosen vulnerability.

“You’ll count with each slap,” Cas tells Dean.

“Yes,” Dean agrees.

Without warning, without holding back, Cas brings down his open hand on Dean’s left cheek, hard, loud in the silent room. Dean yelps.

“One.”

Red is blooming where Cas’ hand met skin. He had been sure he wouldn’t enjoy this part, but the broken sound of Dean’s ragged breath and the sting in his own hand shoot right to his groin. The part of him that is still angel revels in Dean’s submission. The part of him that is human is affected by the display of desire. Both of them are burning with the need to make Dean feel good. He lifts his hand and lands another blow on Dean’s red skin.

Dean cries out this time. “Two.”

Cas smoothes his palm over the deepening red mark on Dean’s cheek and strokes up over his back. “You’re doing so good,” he murmurs and marvels at the goosebumps his words and his touch leave on Dean’s body.

Next are two slaps in fast succession, apparently surprising Dean. After a short pause, Dean says, “Three and four,” with a nervous chuckle.

Cas reaches down to run a fingertip along Dean’s cock, ever so lightly, until Dean squirms. Cas taps his thigh in reprimand and lifts his hand again to bring it down on Dean’s right cheek with a loud snapping sound. Dean is pushed forward on the bed. “Fuck, Cas,” he shouts. “Five.”

Cas trails a finger down his spine and doesn’t stop, runs the dry pad down Dean’s cleft and over his entrance. Dean whimpers. His shoulders are shaking with the strain of the rope and his breath is coming heavy. Cas read about the surge of endorphins that can rush through a person in this situation. Dean’s voice is dreamlike when he counts the next two hard slaps that make more red bloom on his skin.

Cas is panting too, aroused like never before from the sight of Dean’s apparent pleasure. Unable to stop himself, he leans over Dean and rubs his clothed erection against Dean’s backside, over the marks he left there. Dean presses back against him eagerly and mumbles, “Yes, Cas, please let me feel you.”

He lingers just a moment longer and rocks his hips against Dean’s skin, before he draws back and straightens his legs again. The next slap lands over Dean’s cleft and draws a sob out of him.

“S…six,” he stutters.

Cas brings his hand down again, same spot, and earns the same reaction.

“Se-ven.” Dean is groaning now, his cock dripping steadily unto the floor, sweat shining all over his back. The smell of his exertion and his pleasure is thick in the air, stifling, and underneath it all, the scent of Cas’ own desperate arousal. Cas’ body reacts with an almost unpleasant ache low in his stomach. He is straining against the tightness of his pants, his senses heightened to the point of overstimulation by the exquisite torture of watching Dean tremble.

Two more slaps, left cheek, right cheek.

“Eight.”

“Nine.”

Dean’s whole body is shaking. His testicles are drawn tight. When Cas runs a gentle hand over the skin of Dean’s abused backside, Dean jerks violently and murmurs something, too low to hear, a plea maybe, or a curse. Every single one of Dean’s muscles is tensed in anticipation. Cas rubs his thumb over the sensible skin around Dean’s tightly furled hole.

“Please,” Dean moans, delirious, wanton.

“What do you want, Dean?” Cas’ voice is thick with lust. He clears his throat.

“Please,” Dean whispers, as if he has no idea what he wants, what he needs to bring him over the edge. That’s Cas’ task. His heart surges as he understands how much Dean trusts him with this. Dean has given himself over to Cas fully, and Cas feels powerful and completely lost at the same time. He presses against Dean's opening, lightly, and a tendril of grace breaks free from his skin, finds its way into Dean’s shivering body. Cas listens to the pleading, broken sounds the action elicits from Dean.

“One more,” he murmurs, more to himself than to Dean, before he lifts his hand, now glowing dimly with the essence of who Cas used to be, and hits Dean square over his reddened backside.

Dean’s “Ten” is little more than a whimper between the strangles pants that mark Dean’s orgasm. Cas watches rapt as Dean’s cock pulses out long ribbons of white that fall onto the floor beneath him. It goes on for forever, spurt after spurt. It’s the most riveting thing Cas has ever seen, and he witnessed the birth of stars and the blossoming of the first flower. It had been a deep shade of red, he remembers, just like the bruised skin of Dean’s backside.

He never stood a chance to keep his distance, did he? The need cursing through his veins is all-consuming, undeniable. Cas opens his fly and lets his erection spring free, eager to feel Dean’s heated skin. Dean strains his neck to look at him, eyes heavy-lidded. Cas’ cock, red and leaking, swells under his gaze. Dean spreads his legs wider and moves back, moans low when Cas rubs against Dean’s cheeks and leaves a trail of wetness on Dean’s body.

“You’re perfect, Dean,” Cas rasps, awed, and Dean moans again, maybe at the praise or because of the pressure of Cas’ cock against his hole. Cas tells him how he makes him feel, untethered, helpless, desperate, while he slides between Dean’s cheeks, paints Dean with his pleasure. He wants and wants, the tip of his cock catches on Dean’s rim, and yes, he wants that, can’t tear his eyes away, maybe, maybe one day ...

His movements become erratic. Dean is wearing the marks Cas gave him, wears them willingly, and if anyone could see them, they would know that Dean is _his_. Cas, for all he knows about Dean and humans and himself, wasn't prepared for this. His muscles seize and he digs his fingers deep into Dean's red skin, grips him tight, and his release is pulled from him as if forced by a power bigger than himself. It pulls the breath from his lungs and his strength from his body and his love from the very core of his being, out in the open.

When he is finally spent, Cas leans over to open the knots and help Dean up on the bed.

The sudden silence falls like snow over the room. To occupy his hands - the hands that just hurt Dean, hurt him to bring him pleasure, the hands that are currently shaking from the sheer overwhelming power of that experience - Cas gets a glass of water, careful not to spill anything, and while Dean drinks, he takes a towel from the drawer and cleans up the remnants of Dean’s orgasm and his own. Dean lays still. He looks more peaceful than Cas has seen him in a long time.

“Cas?,” Dean asks in a small voice.

“Yes?”

“Please don’t leave?”

Cas read a lot about this. Dean needs him now, maybe more than before. He lies down and tugs one of the blankets over both of them.

“I’ll stay as long as you want,” he reassures and doesn’t object when Dean curls up beside him, head on Cas’ shoulder, one arm thrown over his middle.

“Did you like it?” Dean wants to know.

Cas has to smile. A heavy feeling settles in his chest when he looks down at Dean, warm body pressed close to him, radiating satisfaction and contentment.

“You were perfect, more perfect than I could ever imagine.”

Dean smiles. His breathing deepens and the last of the tension leaves his body. Cas thinks he’s fallen asleep, but then Dean’s hand reaches up and rests lightly on Cas’ chest, right over his heart. “This okay?” Dean murmurs.

Cas heaves a stumbling breath, stunned at how this light touch seems somehow more important than all the things they did before. “Yes,” he says simply, unsure how to tell Dean that his heart beats like it wants to jump right into Dean’s open palm.

“Why wouldn’t you let me touch you?” It’s a quiet question, should be a simple question. It’s anything but.

“I…,” Cas wants to move, tries to sit up, but Dean keeps him down with surprising strength. Sometimes Cas forgets that he’s not as strong as he used to be. He shivers under Dean’s insistent touch.

“I don’t know how you do it,” he whispers after a silent moment that stretched endlessly between them.

“What?” Dean asks when it’s clear Cas won’t say more.

Cas covers Dean’s hand with his own, presses it into his skin until he can’t tell where one begins and the other ends. “This. How can you share something like this and not…” he searches for words. “Drown in it?” he manages to say, and his voice breaks, because this is the moment where Dean will see the truth, that he was selfish, that he _lied_.

Dean pushes up on his free arm, the other still clutching Cas’ chest, until he can look him in the eye. A storm is raging in the forest green, something that looks like anger but tastes different. “Are you saying you didn’t want me to touch you, because… what? Because you might develop feelings for me?”

Cas holds his stare. Shakes his head. “I… I thought it would hurt less.”

“What?”

“Letting you go afterwards,” Cas confesses.

Dean’s eyes move over his face as if he searches for something; a crease between his brows deepens when he doesn’t seem to find it. His chest moves against Cas’ with every inhale.

“Cas, why do you think I agreed to this?”

“You had desires. I could fulfill them. It’s convenient.”

“Convenient.” Dean spits out the word like a curse. “Con…” He huffs, but it’s not quite a laugh. “Cas, goddammit. I mean yeah, I don’t mind some kinky action now and then and it’s true I don’t get to indulge all that often, but do you really think that’s all this is about?”

Cas isn’t sure anymore. Nevertheless, he nods slowly. Dean’s hand finds his jaw, his fingers slip into the short hair at his nape until Cas’ face is held in place, and he’s forced to meet Dean’s eyes. Slow, slow, Dean leans forward until their lips meet in a soft kiss, just a short press before it’s gone again. “I’ll take any chance to be with you, in whichever way you want to be with me,” he whispers against Cas’ lips, before his mouth captures Cas’ again, deeper this time.

Cas’ mind struggles through a whole array of reactions. Disbelief, tentative hope, pure joy, doubt, while Dean explores his mouth, moves his lips against his lips, dips his tongue inside, licks against his own. It’s sensual and overwhelming. It’s powerful in a way the last hour hasn’t been.

When they come up for air a long time later, Cas asks, “But we’ll keep the room?”

Dean laughs, low and warm, and it makes Cas’ chest expand with joy to hear it. “Yeah, Cas, we’ll definitely keep the room.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [ procasdeanating](https://procasdeanating.tumblr.com/post/172543296166/deancastropefest-title-ill-keep-the-ends-out) on tumblr. Come say hi!


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